Strangers on a Busbyphilosophette©
I can't remember the particular features of his face, though I vividly recall other parts of him. That moment may have been important, but it was also fleeting, and I can only try to recount it the best I can (after all, I was only eighteen at the time). If I'm honest he could have been anyone. He could have been any stranger with darkish hair, any man who was about twice my age, any pervert who fits into this vague category. But anyway, it's the act that matters, not his individual appearance. For him, it was a perfect opportunity to debauch a helpless schoolgirl. For me, it was the moment I was forced to face the dark side of my sexuality. I was there as flesh for his use, and he resides in my memory as the spur for my own deviant journey.
That day, I got on the bus and was minding my own business. Having for once to take a different bus to my schoolmates I decided to sit at the back and in the corner, curling up on the seat. The high back of the seat in front hid me from view. I lay content to just look out of the window for the rest of the journey, absently staring at oncoming traffic. Then a stranger sat next to me, sharing my obscured spot. Being too busily bored by the outside world, I was oblivious to his presence. If I had noticed him I might have thought it odd that he sat with me when so many seats were empty. It must have been few minutes later when he made himself acutely aware to me by resting his hand on my bare knee.
I was about to protest, when I faced him, and froze, mouth agape with shock. He had unzipped himself, and was stoking his erection whilst his eyes wandered up and down my body. Speechless, I slumped further into the corner, and shook my head pleadingly. He shook his head mockingly. As his one hand stroked his prominent organ, his other inched along my sensitive inner thigh and disappeared under my plaid skirt. I squirmed and tried to push away his searching hand but was too weak. When he inevitably reached his desired target he splayed his fingers against it, palpating it with tender sureness. My face turned bright red, and I wanted to turn away from his cold smirking gaze, but didn't dare.
No-one had touched me like this before. My mind was repulsing, yet my body was relenting. His touch sent shivers up my body, making my back arch rigidly and my chest stick out. Seeing this, he stopped stroking himself and groped at my breasts through the blouse. As the bus hit a bump, making us rock gently, he flung my tie over my shoulder and plucked open a few buttons at chest level. He dug inside and squeezed hard at my left breast and at the same time rubbed more furiously at the crotch of my panties, which were now shamefully wet. I dissolved into trembling sighs, not knowing if the grumbling engine noise would drown us out for other passengers.
He pushed his cock up against my leg. It felt so hot to the touch and it throbbed with what must have been a terrible agitation. I stared at his agitation and was hypnotised by it. The way it smoothly curved upward, leading up to a helmet that bulged so rudely, with dark veins struck along its length in tortuous fashion. I wanted to grasp at it with my delicate little fingers, yet, as I got tantalisingly close he grabbed my wrist, grabbed both my wrists, and held them together above my head.
He kissed me hard on the mouth, his invading tongue lashing against my tongue, and he sucked up my every gasp. As he used his hands to restrain mine he began to rub his cock against my outer thigh. I felt an overpowering sense of heat between my legs, and needed his fingers, or mine, or something else, to relieve my own agitation. But he wouldn't, and the position I was in meant I couldn't. He thrust vigorously against my leg, and breathed heavily into my mouth. I knew he would soon find his relief. I was so desperate for my relief that I vainly tried to reposition myself, struggling helplessly for my share of the pleasure. But my leg struggled up and down his nether regions, taking him towards climax. A controlled groan left his lips, and spurts of his cum landed on my leg and skirt. For a few moments he rested against me, squeezing out the last drops. His grip on my hands relented and I, afraid to make any sudden movement, let them droop slowly to each side of myself. Then he sat back besides me and zipped up.
For a few moments I lay in the corner, not sure what to do. I sheepishly asked for his name; he ignored me, got up, walked down the aisle, and stood at the front. Confused, I sat up and looked to the front. I saw the back of him. He seemed calm and still. Sitting just a few feet from him, I saw a mother looking down into a baby carriage, and across from her, an old couple talking to each other. They were oblivious to what had happened to me.
I looked down at my skirt; his cum had pooled into one of its creases. I wiped it until it became an anonymous stain. I re-ordered my disordered uniform. As I did this the bus stopped and the stranger got off. He didn't bother to glance back at me, and when the bus set off again he didn't look up once as I peered through the window. As he walked, he looked down to the ground, with his hands in his pockets, seemingly lost in his own world. The bus turned a corner, and he disappeared from sight. I would never see him again.